MrDarcy
by TimePasses
Summary: There are some major similarities between Pride and Prejudice and the lives of Ron and Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It's pretty much all J.K.'s.

Mr.Darcy

The fire danced in the warm common room, pulling me into a sort of trance. My book lay open in my lap, forgotten as I stared at the captivating flames. I sighed, content with the silent calmness that had swept over the room when everyone else had left. I should have gone to bed much earlier, with everyone else, but being alone sounded rather appealing. I needed some time to think.

About Ron.

Yes, I liked him. Loved him, even. Finally, I had admitted the fact to myself. And I wasn't blind enough to overlook the fact that he didn't treat me like the rest of the girls. He was more…protective of me somehow. And I couldn't say that I particularly minded the additional attention from him, but when he flared up at the mention of Viktor, of any plans that didn't directly involve him, his hovering had the tendency to get annoying.

But who was to say he wasn't just looking out for his best friend? That he didn't _actually_ believe that Viktor was the enemy simply because he attended Durmstrang? I mumbled to myself in frustration, looking back to my book. The only way to figure all of this out was to ask him, and I wasn't nearly confident enough to confront him about this sort of thing.

"Whatchya reading?" a voice from behind me inquired softly. I whirled around in my chair, startled. He stood right in front of me, looking taller than he normally did.

"Ron!" I squeaked, my hand flying to my heart. "You scared me! You can't just come up behind people in the dark and start talking!" I scolded. He rolled his eyes.

"Yea. Sorry. Now answer my question." He demanded.

"Actually, this is a muggle book. _Pride and Prejudice _by Jane Austen. I've read it before, of course, but it's always better the third time around," I explained quietly. Ron crossed the room to sit on the couch across from me.

"And it's so good that you had to stay up this late to read it?" he asked skeptically, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that wouldn't normally be there during a conversation about books.

"I lost track of time," I admitted. "And why are you still awake?"

"Couldn't sleep," Ron mumbled in response, so quietly I had to lean forward to understand him. His eyes shifted away from me, tipping me off to the fact that he was hiding something.

"How come?" I probed, knowing that I sounded annoyingly nosy but not caring too much.

"I've got alot on my mind," he sighed exasperatedly, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Sorry." I wasn't sure what I was apologizing for, but it seemed like the right thing to say. We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, something that was rare between the two of us.

"What's it about?" he finally asked softly, staring at me and leaning forward in his seat.

"Hmmm?" I wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"The book. Ego and Biased or whatever." I laughed at his title, watching as his face turned red. "What?" He questioned nervously. "What's so funny?"

"It's _Pride and Prejudice_, Ron." I corrected patiently. "And it's a classic. About this girl, Elizabeth Bennett. Its pretty much just an old love story, I guess," I explained quietly, looking away from him as my face turned red.

"Oh. Lemme guess, the rich guy that every girl wants marries her and they live happily ever after while the best friend with zero social skills dies alone." He predicted, his mood quickly becoming dark.

"Actually, no. Both men are rich, Mr.Bingley and Mr. Darcy. But Bingley's got great manners, a real people person. Darcy's kind of…indifferent most of the time, I guess. He and Elizabeth don't get on too well in the beginning, but he eventually opens up about his feelings for her and they end up together. Bingley and Elizabeth's sister fall in love, so pretty much everybody wins." I summarized as best I could, turning redder when I realized how much this resembled our own lives.

Harry, the rich and famous one who was good at talking to people could certainly relate to Mr.Bingley. Darcy, the quiet, awkward one could practically be Ron's ancestor. And Darcy got the girl, the main character of the story. Me.

I looked up to see Ron staring at me thoughtfully, as if deciding to do something. He took a deep breath before opening his mouth to speak. "'Mione?" he whispered nervously.

"Hmm?"

"I… I need… I have to… I'm…" He tried, sighing after each failed attempt. My heart fluttered, as I knew what he was getting at. His expression became defeated all of a sudden. "I guess I'll go back to bed now," he murmured, his sad eyes locking with mine.

"Oh. Yeah. Me too, I should, you know, umm, get some sleep." I agreed, starting to gather all of my things. When I looked up, he was already ascending to stairs to the dormitories. I moaned in frustration as I listened to his footsteps growing quieter and quieter. We had been so close. That is, if my assumptions about what he was trying to say were correct. I stood with my bag on my shoulder, making my way to the staircase slowly.

The sound of his footsteps came to an abrupt stop. I paused in the middle of the room, wondering how he got to the dormitories so fast. And then I heard the footsteps again, only this time they were quicker, and growing closer.

Ron came into view, his jaw clenched, an unmistakable determination blazing in his eyes. I couldn't help but notice how incredibly attractive he looked at that moment. He was walking fast, straight at me.

"Forget something?" I asked him, unable to look away from his impossibly blue eyes. I nearly stepped back when I realized that he wasn't slowing down.

"Yes," he managed to murmur, just as he bent toward me, grasping the back of my neck and pulling my mouth to his, kissing me hard. My eyes widened in surprise as my mind tried to process what was happening. As soon as the initial shock wore off, though, my eyes slipped shut and my hands reached up to grip his shoulders. His fingers were buried in my hair, his thumbs stroking my neck. Ron took a step closer to me, forcing me to take a step backward. He took another step, and another, and another, and another until I was pressed against the wall.

I pulled away reluctantly, gasping for breath. Ron's forehead rested against my own as we struggled for air. Grinning, I looked up into his crystal blue eyes. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he sighed, kissing my cheek affectionately.

"So why didn't you?" I asked, leaning into his touch.

"I always thought you'd go for Bingley," he stated simply as his lips met mine again.

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If you want me to continue, please let me know…Maybe I'll do this chapter in Ron's POV. Should I?

Reviews really make my day!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Everything's J.K. Rowling's

Mr. Darcy, Ch.2

Ron POV

I found it hard to stay put in my dormitory, knowing that Hermione was just down the hall. A few stairs, that's all it would take to see her again…to kiss her again.

My boldness in the common room had surprised me to no end…we had had similar conversations before, the ones that made me think that maybe…just maybe she felt the same way about me as I did her. Maybe, if this world was truly twisted, she loved me, too. After all, she could do so much better than a poor, red-haired bloke that would never do any schoolwork if it weren't for the fact that it made her happy.

I wanted her to be happy. The happiest person in the world. I wanted to do that for her. And now she was giving me the chance of a lifetime, allowing me to try and make her happy. That fact and that fact alone put a smile on my face as I drifted to sleep.

"Ron, breakfast," Neville called to me through the curtain. I moaned, trying to figure out why I was so tired. I wasn't usually this tired, and I had gone to bed at the same time as usu- oh. Oh! The Hermione and the book and the couldn't sleep and the kiss and…oh. All the events of last night came pouring back to me all at once, and I was out of bed in a heartbeat.

"What time is it?" I asked Dean, pulling my robes on.

"Breakfast time," he answered, slipping on his shoes and standing up. I hurriedly finished dressing and exited the room with my classmates. We trotted down the stairs together, everyone but me thinking one thing: food. The common room came into view, and a sudden wave of nausea swept over me. What if she didn't mean it? What if she just kissed me back so that my feelings didn't get hurt? That would be just like Hermione, putting up with something unbearable to spare others' feelings.

I drew in a shaky breath and continued down the staircase. Seeing her again was unavoidable…and already I missed looking at her.

And then I saw her. Honestly, how she didn't have a line of boys waiting to go out with her was beyond me. She was lovely. Soft golden curls framed her face, and her pink lips curved up into a smile as she spoke to Harry. No way did I deserve her.

I approached her tentatively, stopping as I reached her side.

"…and _then _McGonnogal finally agreed to give me all of the assignments for the rest of this term, but she told me I would have to wait for next year for the reading list. Oh, hi, Ron!" Hermione greeted me brightly. Harry looked bored out of his mind.

"Hey," I returned quietly. The three of us stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"Ron! Have I told you about last week, when I was trying to convince Professor McGonnogal to give me all of the assignments for the rest of term?" Hermione asked me excitedly, giving me a quick wink, invisible to Harry. The smile in her eyes was so obvious to me, but Harry didn't seem to notice. He walked off with a groan, his eyes trained on Ginny. "Well, I went into her classroom, and I said, 'Professor, I've been so bored lately, I really could use something to do.' And then, she…" Hermione trailed off once Harry was out of earshot.

"You're a genius," I admired. She giggled, flushing and turning for the portrait hole.

The walk to the Great Hall was a bit awkward, but I enjoyed her company just the same. "So…" she finally murmured, still not looking at me.

"So…" I echoed, unsure of what to say. We were the only ones in the corridor, which only made the silence all the more intense. I looked at her face, trying to read her expression. To no avail. Her eyes darted around the walls nervously, but that was the only sign of emotion whatsoever.

"You think we should tell Harry?" I asked finally.

"He'll figure it out," she looked at me coyly. "Believe me." My breath caught in my throat at the look on her face. It was almost…suggestive. I found it hard to swallow as she continued to stare at me.

"Oh. Ok," I replied lamely, tearing my eyes away from hers.

The Great Hall was already packed with people eating, none of them paying us any mind. We took our places across from Harry, picking up our forks. He was too engrossed in Ginny to notice us. Nothing new there. But usually it didn't make me so happy.

"Bacon?" she offered, passing me the plate. I suppressed a shiver as her graceful fingers brushed my callused ones. We ate in silence, each of us glancing at the other occasionally.

"I don't see how he'll figure it out," I pointed out. "He wouldn't notice if the castle was on fire."

"Trust me. He'll notice. He's not that thick. Just don't say anything. It will be funnier." Hermione advised with an evil grin.

"Funnier for us or funnier for you?" I asked cautiously, trying to keep my tone sarcastic though I was a bit scared by her sudden secretive confidence.

She answered me with a sly sideways glance, and nothing more. And then I knew what she had planned. The basic outline of it, anyway. I would be embarrassed, not knowing what to do. She would take me by surprise, sometime when I was completely unprepared. Even after figuring all of this out, there was no way to know when or what she was going to do.

I had to beat her to it. Steal her plan. It wouldn't be hard to take her by surprise, what with how lost she could get in those books of hers. I took her hand in mine casually, stroking her palm with my thumb as I plotted.

Hermione looked at me curiously for a moment, attempting to read my expression. She was good at that. No doubt, she had already figured out that I would figure her out.

"It's not going to work, you know," she warned, leaning in close.

"We'll see," I sighed, brushing her hair behind her shoulder before I stood up to leave.

I wasn't as smart as her, that was certain. But I didn't mind making a fool of myself if it meant winning our little game.

That was the difference.

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I think this was my first time writing in a guy's point of view. Hope it wasn't too terrible. Please let me know if it was.

I'm planning on writing a few more chapters; don't know whose point of view.

**I've already got the next chapter typed, but I won't post it until I get five more reviews!!**

Criticism and ideas are welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Darcy, Ch.3

Hermione POV

He had figured it out. Which shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. I hadn't exactly been very subtle about my little plan. But, honestly, I didn't think he'd actually figure it out! He obviously had, though, from the look on his face. The combination of triumph, fear, determination and mischief was poorly concealed beneath the immensely fake smile he had put on.

So it was a competition. Of course it was…. After all, it was _Ron. _Well, fine. We both knew I was smarter than him. And I could practically tell what he was thinking, just by looking at his face. He would _not _win…as long as he didn't turn those eyes of his on me. Merlin, those eyes were blue. Once he had me locked in them, I could completely forget about winning. They were impossible to look away from, honestly. They were too blue.

I stood finally, gathering my books and heading to Transfiguration. It wasn't until I had reached the classroom door that I remembered that it was Saturday. Bullocks. I turned around, aggravated. If it hadn't been for that boy, I certainly would have remembered that we didn't have classes today. If he hadn't taken up the whole 'rational thinking' section of my mind, this never would have happened.

By the time I reached the common room, I had worked myself into quite a fit. And, as always, my anger was directed at Ron. I found him sitting on the ground, playing chess with Harry. Of course, the fact shocked me to no end. Because he never plays chess. Hah.

"Ron!" I called angrily, slapping him across the head.

"What?" He looked genuinely confused.

"You could have _reminded_ me that today is Saturday! I went all the way to transfiguration before remembering!" I scolded, becoming embarrassed as every eye in the common room turned toward me.

Ron chuckled a bit. "You forgot?" he asked me with a skeptic eye, speaking softly and losing about a quarter of our audience.

"Yes, Ronald I _forgot._" I confirmed with a sigh. " I forgot because you didn't remind me." I was surprised by my accusatory tone.

A rare knowing look came to Ron's eyes and that lopsided grin spread slowly across his face as he thought about what to say next. "If you hadn't forgotten then I wouldn't have had to remind you," he pointed out in triumph.

"It's your fault that I forgot in the first place." I hissed. "If you weren't being so…" I trailed off, flushing as I peered around the common room to meet quite a few pairs of amused eyes.

"If I weren't being so what, 'Mione?" Ron inquired with mock curiosity.

I scowled up at him, not finding the situation very funny. I turned on my heel and headed for the stairs to the dormitories, but didn't get far before Ron's large hand closed around my wrist. He spun me back around to face him, his face solemn but his eyes alight with amusement.

"Sorry," he apologized simply. His gaze held mine as he pulled me into a hug. I savored the smell of him, but pulled away earlier than necessary. No need to give him the upper hand when we had the whole day to get through.

"'S okay," I mumbled, walking away from him into the common room. He followed, sitting next to me when I reclined on the couch.

We sat there together in silence for a few minutes, having lost our audience. I could only imagine how obvious our feelings for each other must have been to them…for years, too. It was first year, for me, when deep, deep down I developed feelings for Ron. Non-friendship feelings. More than friendship feelings, actually.

Third year was a turning point of sorts, when things became more awkward between the two of us. When everyone knew that the relationship between Harry and I was _not _the same as the bond between Ron and I.

And in fourth year I finally figured it out. That it wasn't just a crush. That I loved him.

I was snapped out of my Ron-centered reverie as he shifted closer to me, moving the couch. My eyes darted to his in a nervous glance. He wouldn't win. He really wouldn't. I wouldn't let him.

Gathering my courage, I closed the space between us, resting my hand on his as casually as I possibly could. Ron didn't waver. His fingers curled around mine.

I would have to do better than this. My free hand rose to brush his chin, just barely below his lower lip. "It seems you were saving some breakfast for later," I teased, looking in to his surprised eyes. Surprised. Hah. I had surprised him. And he didn't know what to do as he answered me with a small nod.

Current score: Hermione-1, Ron-0

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I really don't like this chapter, I'm sorry if you all hate it! The next few will be better, I promise!

Please tell me how to improve.


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Darcy, ch.4

Ron POV

So, she got me once. Who cares? None of these little things are going to matter much in the end. Sure, they help lead to the victory, add to it. But it's like Quidditch. Yes, the points that the chasers make add up and build the team's confidence. At the end of the game, though, it's the snitch that counts. That wins it.

Now, we were both in chaser mode. And it would stay that way for a while until one of us had built up the confidence to become the seeker. To win the game.

I had to strategize. Do something she wouldn't think to do. That limited my options a bit, but it _was _possible. It had to be possible. Because I had to win.

I walked away from her, sitting down next to the table and clearing the chessboard, only to reassemble the pieces to their appropriate squares. It was surprisingly difficult to keep myself from glancing back at her. The slightest sign of insecurity was enough to raise Hermione's confidence level by about ten points. Which I couldn't afford. Besides, why should I have to look back at her? I could already imagine the cocky grin on her face.

The chessboard was all set. Now for the hard part. I took a deep breath, willing my face not to turn red. " 'Mione?" I called, turning to face her.

"What?" She looked quite surprised that I was speaking to her, much to my delight.

"Wanna play?" I offered, realizing the double meaning in my words.

Apparently, she did too. "What?" she breathed, flustered. Her eyes were wide as she stared down at me nervously.

"Chess," I clarified, fighting a grin. One point Ron.

"Oh. Yea. Yea, sure," she agreed, coming to sit across from me. The table wasn't as big as it looked. Space beneath it was limited, forcing our knees together. I did my best not to be affected, for I had known what was coming.

She, however, had not. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her face a lovely rose color. Her eyes were cast down in embarrassment until realization lit up her features. Her eyes snapped to mine immediately, then narrowed with a competitive look that gave me the urge to apologize.

But I didn't. Because that was at least one point for me. And now I was in the lead. So there.

"White goes first," I reminded her, gesturing to her pieces when she continued to stare at me. "So go ahead," I urged.

Hermione didn't speak as she lifted a hand to move a knight. Her free hand rested in her lap, just barely out of my reach. "Your turn," she said, watching me intently.

And here was the dilemma. Should I draw the game out, spend more time with her? Or beat her in five simple plays? Or let her win? No, I couldn't let her win. Confidence boost. But I couldn't beat her too quickly, hurt her feelings. Sure, this was a competition. But it wasn't a war. No one needed to get hurt.

I made my move, a smart but ingressive one. Hermione stared at the board thoughtfully for a moment before shifting one of her pieces on the board.

Her hand was so close to mine. Too close to mine. Too far from mine. It was impossible to think through the temptation of just one of her soft hands in mine. I scooted forward, stretching my arm underneath the table to entwine her fingers with mine. She looked up at me nervously, almost panicked. Only then did I realize that this was pushing her, confusing her. Earning me yet another point.

But I almost didn't care. Almost. Her hand in mine felt wonderful. The game was progressing, the turnouts looking quite good for me. Both games. I was winning both chess and our little competition.

I watched as she nudged her pawn to the next space. The movement left a wide-open path from my bishop to her queen. Surely she saw it. I stared at her quizzically, trying to analyze her expression. Her face was almost expressionless, but her eyes held all the information I needed. She refused to look at me.

So she was plotting. Well, fine. I was two points ahead in my mind. I slid my bishop across the board, knocking her queen over swiftly. Hermione finally looked at me, a cocky grin spreading across her face. Her eyes didn't waver from mine as her pawn knocked out my own queen, reaching the end of the board and earning her back her queen.

My mouth dropped open in shock. How did that happen? I took her queen with my bishop, which should have taken the pawn instead. And now she was winning. Beating me at my own game. Fine, then. One point for her. She still wouldn't beat me.

Hermione slid her hand from mine, causing a deep frown to cross my face. Her hand uncurled each of my fingers individually from the fist I had formed, until my hand was flat, palm-up on my knee. Her nail traced circles on my palm, tickling my hand. My sharp intake of breath tipped her off to what she was doing to me. To how difficult she was making it for me to think. One more point to 'Mione. We were tied. She smirked, nodding at the chessboard to remind me that it was my turn.

Struggling through the fog she created in my mind as the very tip of her finger brushed my wrist, I made the best move I could think of. Hermione uttered a small giggle, one I had never heard before, as she slid her queen closer to my king. "Checkmate," she grinned as her fingers barely brushed across my palm once more. She stood swiftly, and then leaned back down to knock over my king with a wink.

Current score: Hermione-4, Ron-3

And I was losing the will to keep fighting.

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Tell me if you liked this chapter. I think my writing has been a bit off lately. Agree?

Should I continue?


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Darcy, Ch. 5

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything

Hermione POV

So there. I was winning again. And there was no way I was going to let him get ahead again. I needed to be ready for anything.

Technically, this game wasn't fair at all. I hadn't been in much of a relationship before, just Viktor. But all the two of us did was dance. Ron had much more experience than I did when it came to this.

That fact only made me more determined to win. I smirked as I sat on an old chair in the common room with my book. Ron still sat at the table, appearing to be deep in thought. His forehead was wrinkled in adorable concentration. Planning his next move was my guess.

I pretended to read _Pride and Prejudice_ again as I watched Ron closely. Then it came to me. My next move. It would catch him by surprise, no doubt, and it would actually build our relationship. Grinning, I leaned over and pulled a quill and parchment from my bag.

_Daddy,_

_How are you and Mom? Things have been great here at school. Classes are still easy, and my friends and I are closer than ever. Actually, Ron and I are a bit more than friends now. Nothing major, don't worry. But I thought you and Mother should hear the good news before everyone else. I'm sure you'll want to know what Ron has to say, so I'll let him write a bit now._

I suppressed a smirk as I stood and approached the table where Ron sat. "Ron?" I asked, trying my best to look innocent.

"Yeah?" Ron looked up at me, his expression slowly making the slight transition from plotting to curious.

"I know it's quite early, but I write to my parents every Saturday and I think it's only fair to let them know…" I trailed off, knowing that he would be aware of what I was referring to.

He looked panicked for a split second before a knowing gleam came to his eye. It really didn't affect the plan much if he knew why I was doing this. That didn't change the fact that he had to come up with a practical way to address my parents and know what to write to them.

"Yeah, sure. Good idea, I agree," he told me casually, taking the quill and parchment from my hand and beginning to write immediately, much to my surprise. I walked back to the armchair I was sitting in slowly, shocked. Another point Ron, apparently. We were tied again. I sat nervously, trying futilely to figure out what he was writing. His hand didn't pause once as he wrote quickly, never even looking up at me.

After just a few minutes, the quill came to a final halt and Ron stood, crossing the room to me. He held the parchment out in front of me. "Did you want to write more?" he offered softly, looking me straight in the eye. I nodded silently, taking it from him and reading the letter anxiously. I didn't fail to notice that he didn't move from the place where he was standing, and his eyes didn't stray from my face.

**Mr. Granger,**

**Your daughter has told you that the two of us are something of an item. That fact is true. Something she wrote to you worries me, though. She told you that our relationship was nothing major. I hope, for my sake, that she told you this just to soothe your anxieties about your lovely daughter having a boyfriend. Because, for me, this is major. It's what I've been waiting for for years. Not just a relationship, but a relationship with her. With Hermione. I can guarantee that your daughter will not get hurt under my watch. It's my dream to make her happy, as long as she'll allow me to.**

**Your daughter is a very special girl, sir, and I swear I'll take good care of her. I look forward to meeting you and Mrs. Granger in person.**

**All the best,**

**Ron**

I looked up at Ron in shock, blushing furiously. It was beautiful. Another point for Ron. But this one, I was happy to give him. That was the sweetest letter he could've written about me, and it wasn't even _to _me. His expression was soft, adoring as he stared back at me. We sat in a comfortable silence, Ron just standing in the middle of the common room, staring down at me.

"Did you really want me to send this, or are you just being nice?" I challenged quietly, trying to make my voice sound accusing to no avail.

"Send it if you want to. Your parents ought to know, right?" he questioned, his expression unchanged.

"Right. Fine, then," I agreed. I bent over the parchment to write just a bit more.

_Ron's a great person, Daddy, I don't know if you've met him for long enough to realize it. I can't wait to see you at Christmas._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

I prepared the roll of parchment for its journey to my parents' house and slipped it into my bag, planning on sending it later. All the while I could feel Ron's eyes on me. He just continued to stand in front of me, just out of reach, taller than he usually seemed. When it seemed absolutely pointless to keep looking anywhere but him, I reluctantly glanced up to meet his eyes.

"What?" I demanded softly, trying to sound annoyed despite the fact that I felt incredibly small at the moment.

"Nothing," Ron claimed quietly before turning and taking a seat on the couch across from me. I looked back to my book.

But reading was impossible here, with Ron's eyes on no one and nothing but me. I could feel them boring into the side of my head as I stared, unseeing, at page 3.

I sighed finally, looking up at him. "Stop," I commanded, agitated.

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Stop," I repeated.

"Why?" He smirked.

"Because I'm trying to read," I insisted.

"So, read." Ron suggested wryly.

"I can't," I sighed. He had just won another point.

"Not my fault." He was mocking me on purpose.

"Yes your fault," I argued.

"How is it my fault?" Ron asked me playfully. I refused to answer, looking back to my book with an aggravated growl. I heard Ron chuckle next to me. What I needed was just a bit of time away from him, I decided. I stood and marched toward the staircase.

"Hey!"came Ron's protesting voice from behind me. "Where are you going?"

"Upstairs. To read," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Why can't you read down here?" he demanded, staring down at me with anxious eyes.

"Because you're staring at me," I informed him, turning and heading for the staircase again. I hadn't taken two steps before Ron's hand closed around my wrist, effectively stopping me. The electricity in his touch was unbelievable. My eyes were wide as I stared up at him, helpless.

"So? Why can't I stare at you _while _you read?" he compromised.

"Because it's driving me crazy, that's why." I told him firmly, my voice a bit louder than I meant for it to be.

Ron smirked. "I can't help it, though, 'Mione. I'm not as strong as you are. I just…the only thing I want to do is look at you." His voice grew softer with every word he spoke.

I blushed, casting my eyes down. He had been so different lately. Honest and sweet. I looked up at him again, smiling slightly. That was one more point I wasn't hesitating to award him.

"I guess I can try not to, but I don't reckon I can make you any promises…" Ron offered reluctantly.

I nodded as his hand slid down from my wrist to my hand. He pulled me over to the couch he had been sitting on and gestured for me to sit first. He sat after me, closer than usual.

I took a deep breath, fighting the feeling his proximity gave me and opening my book once more. I could feel his breath come and go steadily against my neck, but I fought to ignore it as I read.

It took me awhile to get the hang of it, but after a while I was engrossed in my book enough to almost forget that Ron was next to me.

Current score: Hermione-4, Ron-7

But I couldn't let that get me down.

OOOOOOOO

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